More Than Meets The Eye
by Mushrooms Ahoy
Summary: Set after the events of The Dark World. When Jane discovers that Loki is posing as Odin, the trickster goes to desperate lengths to ensure that she remains silent. However, Loki's solution has side-effects, which leads to him and Jane growing inexplicably closer. Loki/Jane
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This story is told from both Jane's point of view and Loki's point of view, but in some places I've also included some third person point of view, where I think it works better. To stop it from getting too confusing, at the top of each section of the story I've indicated which point of view it's being told from. Hope this makes it simpler to read, but if not, let me know in a review and I'll try to change it.

This story begins about six months after the events of The Dark World. Hope you enjoy!

Jane's POV

When Thor invited me to Asgard to celebrate Odin's Naming Day, I really didn't know what to say. The first time I visited Asgard I didn't exactly get a warm welcome. The healers treated me like an idiot and Odin told me (if I remember rightly) that I belong on Asgard no more than "a goat belongs at a banquet". Frigga and Heimdall were the only ones who were nice to me. Of course, poor Frigga's gone now, and I didn't know if Heimdall would get the time off from guarding the Bifrost, so I had visions of me attending a feast with a whole load of guests who didn't want me there – apart from Thor, obviously. But I didn't want to turn down Thor's offer either. Even though I felt a little out of place, that doesn't change the fact that Asgard is probably the most beautiful place I've ever visited. And realistically, how many times am I going to be able to go to Asgard, celebrate the king's naming day and dine with the royal family and various noblemen? It's too good to miss! So in the end, I accepted Thor's invitation – Cinderella would go to the ball. Or in this case, the goat would go to the banquet.

And as I sit here now, at the massive dining table in the palace, I'm so glad I came. The Asgardians have been much less hostile to me this time around; that's probably due to the celebration putting them all in a good mood. Plus, a lot of them now seem to be drunk, which helps even more. Thor also took the opportunity to give me a proper introduction to his fellow warriors: Volstagg (a great big bearded man who shook my hand so firmly I thought he'd pull it off), Fandral (who winked at me and tried to pinch my ass when Thor wasn't looking) and Sif. Both Volstagg and Fandral were very friendly (Fandral a little too so!) but Sif seemed a little cold. She greeted me and said it was nice to see me again but she hasn't said another word to me for the rest of the evening. I thought at first that maybe she just doesn't like making conversation, but she seems to be doing okay with the other people sat at the table! Oh well, I guess you can't win over everyone.

It looks like the feast is starting to wind down now. We've just finished the desserts and some of the guests have already left – including Odin. He left pretty early, actually; and even while he was here it didn't seem like he was having a good time. I don't think he smiled once all evening! Sometime I'll have to ask Thor if he's ever seen his dad in a happy mood – I'd certainly like to know what the special occasion was! Reaching forward, I help myself to another glass of wine; it's the best stuff I've ever tasted! I take a sip of it and as I put the glass back on the table Thor places his hand on my shoulder.

I turn to face him and he smiles. "You are enjoying yourself?" He asks.

I nod, returning his grin. "Yeah! This has been incredible!"

"You see? I told you everything would be to your liking," he says in a satisfied tone of voice, causing me to chuckle. He's so cute when he's gloating.

"The feast is coming to a close," he continues as my giggles subside, "Volstagg, Fandral, Sif and I are going to continue our festivities at the tavern. Will you accompany us?"

I hesitate. It would be nice to join Thor and the others, but to tell the truth, I'd much rather they went to the tavern without me. I've secretly been hoping that I could have a private meeting with Odin this evening. I haven't told Thor yet – I thought he might try to talk me out of it. However, if he's going to the tavern, I might be able speak to his dad without him finding out. It'd have to be a quick visit, but I could probably get away with it.

I shake my head, smiling apologetically. "I'd like to, but I'm feeling kinda tired. Do you mind if I just go back to our room and get some sleep?"

"Not at all. Go ahead."

I lean in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and he responds my squeezing my hand. "I will not stay out for too long," he adds as I pull away and stand up from my chair.

Oh, Thor, you're considerate to a fault! "No, no, please stay out as long as you like! Have fun with your friends. I'll be fast asleep, I won't mind!"

He laughs. "If I didn't know better, I'd assume you were trying to get rid of me!"

Well, I guess I am, in a way. But I certainly wouldn't put it like that! "Don't be ridiculous. If I didn't have you around, who would invite me to all these fancy parties?"

He laughs again, even more loudly than before. "I see your point," he replies, "Goodnight, Jane."

"Night."

Turning away from him, I make my way out of the dining hall and into the corridor outside. I try to moderate my speed, attempting to walk reasonably quickly without making it look like I'm in a hurry. Not that there are many people around to notice; I pass a couple of noblewomen who I remember from the feast, as well as a few guards, but that's pretty much it. Turning left, I take a detour, heading towards the room I'm sharing with Thor. When I reach it, I take the key (which I've been wearing on a decorative chain around my neck – Thor tells me this is common practice on Asgard) and let myself in.

I don't have time to light the candles, but the light shining in from the doorway is just bright enough to help me find my way around. Walking over to one of the chests of drawers, I pull open the bottom compartment and start rummaging around inside. Underneath several piles of my clothes, my hand finally brushes against what I'm looking for. I grab hold of it and pull my hand out of the drawer, pausing to examine the small square box that I've managed to keep hidden from Thor. Odin's present.

When I decided to come along and join in with the celebrations here on Asgard, I didn't just see it as a chance to have fun. I also saw it as a chance (albeit an incredibly small one) to try to improve my relationship with Odin, because as childish as it sounds, I really want him to like me. It's not for my own sake, but for Thor's. It can't be easy for him, knowing that his dad doesn't approve of me. Of course, Thor's never talked about it, never given me any hint that it upsets him, but deep down I'm sure it must make him uncomfortable. So, in an attempt to make things right between me and Odin, I bought the old man a present – I peace offering, I guess you could call it. I don't even know if Asgardians exchange presents on Naming Days, but it's the thought that counts. At least, I hope Odin will see it that way.

Eager to get this meeting with Odin over and done with (partly because I want to get back here before Thor returns, partly because I've been dreading this for weeks), I close the bottom drawer and stride out of the room, locking the door behind me.


	2. Chapter 2

Jane's POV

When I finally reach Odin's room, I hesitate for a moment, my mind beginning to fill with doubts. Is this really such a good idea? What if he misunderstands and thinks I'm making fun of him? Maybe I should just forget about it…

No. Stop it, Jane, you're being silly. Pull yourself together. I'm acting like a naughty schoolkid outside the principal's office. I can't back out now; after all, I spent a whole day wandering around London trying to find the ideal gift. And if that wasn't bad enough, I then had to put up with Darcy ranting at me about how I'd bought the wrong thing. I shudder as the memories come flooding back to me:

_"You should have bought him a razor, Jane! Or some after-shave! Have you seen the beard on that guy?! Whoa!"_

_"I am not buying Odin a razor, after-shave, or anything else to do with male grooming, Darcy. Nearly every man on Asgard has a beard – he'd probably take it as an insult if I suggested he shave it off." _

_"What about a toaster, then?"_

_"Darcy, please be quiet, I'm trying to work." _

No way. I've suffered way too much for this. Odin's getting his present, whether he likes it or not. And if he doesn't like it…well, what's the worst that could happen? It's not like his relationship with me could get any frostier than it already is. Hopefully.

Taking a deep breath, I reach out and start knocking on the door.

"Enter!" A voice booms from within.

Okay, here goes nothing.

Turning the handle, I open the door and let myself in. Odin is sat in front of an ornate desk on one side of the room. The surface of it is completely covered with scrolls of paper that are inscribed with bizarre symbols I don't even recognise. I hope I haven't interrupted him in the middle of something important.

Turning his head, he looks away from his work and turns his gaze toward me. His one remaining eye regards me with curiosity. "Miss Foster?"

"Hi. Um, Happy Naming Day. The feast was amazing."

He doesn't reply; he just continues to stare at me expectantly.

"We celebrate Naming Days on Earth…sorry, on Midgard too. Except we call them 'birthdays'. And part of our tradition surrounding birthdays involves us giving presents to the person who was born on that day. So I wanted to give you this." Lifting my hand, I hold up the wrapped-up box for him to see clearly.

His eye narrows in suspicion. "What is it?"

"Open it up and you'll see." Making my way over to him, I place the box in his hand and take a step back.

He studies it for a moment, his expression slightly perplexed. Maybe I shouldn't have used bright purple wrapping paper – it's probably making the culture shock even worse. After his brief examination of it, Odin begins to tear off the wrapping paper and it's not long before he reaches the white cardboard box underneath. Opening the lid, he peers down at the watch inside. I don't know how familiar he is with Earth technology, so I wait to see if he recognises what it is. No – his expression's completely blank. Looks like I'm going to have to explain it to him.

"It's a watch. We use it on Midgard to keep track of time. Oh, and also…" I reach forward and take the watch out of the box so he can get a better look at it, "…there's a strap here, so you can wear it on your wrist. I thought it might be useful."

There's a moment's silence.

"Very thoughtful," Odin eventually says, his voice completely monotone, "Put it over there for me, will you?" He gestures behind him to a dressing-table on the other side of the room.

"Oh. Okay." As I walk over to the dressing-table, I can feel a mixture of disappointment and annoyance bubbling up inside me – well, mainly annoyance. He clearly doesn't like it – why else would he immediately ask me to put it away? He didn't even ask to try it on. I don't know, maybe I'm expecting too much of him. After all, he's been alive for thousands of years; he's probably seen way more awe-inspiring things than a watch. But still, this thing wasn't cheap. He could've at least pretended to be interested.

Reaching the table, I'm about to put the watch down on the surface of it when I notice a jewellery box tucked away towards the back. I frown. Did Odin want me to leave the watch on the table or did he want me to put it in the box? I guess it might look a bit rude if I just leave it on the table for him to put away. Better to be safe than sorry. Grabbing the box, I pull it across the table towards me and open the lid.

Oh. Wow. This thing is a treasure trove! I've never seen so many beautiful pieces of jewellery. One necklace in particular catches my eye. Placing the watch down, I take hold of the necklace and lift it out of its compartment. It has a gold chain, decorated with blue gemstones – three on either side – leading down to a sparkling sapphire right in the centre. There are four tiny diamonds surrounding the outside of the sapphire, glinting brightly at me as I hold the necklace up to the light. It's breath-taking – and so delicate.

This must have belonged to Frigga. I feel a stab of remorse as I remember her and what she did for me. I never got the chance to thank her for saving my life. Odin and Thor must miss her so much…

"What do you think you're doing?!" A voice yells from behind me.

I jump in shock and, as I do so, the necklace slips from my grasp. My hands flail as I desperately try to catch it, but it's too late. The necklace falls to the ground and, with an ear-splitting crash, the sapphire smashes in two, causing the diamonds to break away from it and start spinning across the floor of Odin's room.

I gasp in horror and, overwhelmed with guilt, I turn around to face Odin. He's not looking at me; his eyes are fixed on the remnants of the necklace that are scattered across the floor.

"I'm so sorry…"

"That was her favourite necklace…" He utters quietly. In that moment, he sounded nothing like the stern, powerful king I knew him as. He sounded so grief-stricken; vulnerable, almost. Oh, what have I done? I stand there awkwardly for a moment before tentatively reaching out to place a hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him. However, no sooner have my fingers brushed the sleeve of his garment than his head snaps up and his single eye glares at me in pure hatred. I snatch my hand away and stumble backwards, my back colliding with the side of the dressing-table. I've never seen so much venom in someone's gaze.

"You clumsy Midgardian fool! Why can't you just leave things alone?!" He roars.

"I'm so, so sorry! I didn't..."

"Save your breath, your apology is meaningless to me!" His face is flushed red with rage and he looks like he can hardly contain himself. For the first time since we met, I'm genuinely afraid of him.

How could I have screwed things up so badly?! When I came here tonight, I wanted to try to improve my relationship with Odin. Now he hates me more than ever. And, to be honest, who can blame him?

Overcome with guilt and humiliation, I can feel my eyes beginning to water with tears. Hastily, I kneel down to the floor and start to pick up the shattered pieces of the necklace, partly to hide the fact that I'm crying, partly to try and make amends.

"No, leave it, just leave it!"

I can feel his hand take hold of my arm, gripping it so tightly that it's painful. I yelp (much to my embarrassment) as he hauls me up from the ground and on to my feet – Asgardian or not, he's unbelievably strong for an old man. Letting go of my arm, he shoves me in the direction of the door, snarling, "Now get out of my sight! And if you ever touch my mother's things again, not even Thor will be able to protect you from me!"

Rubbing my (now incredibly sore) arm, I hurry towards the door, eager to get out of here. I'm so wrapped up in trying to leave that it takes a moment for me to realise the significance of what Odin just said. Lifting my hand to wipe the tears away from my eyes, I stop in my tracks as the meaning of his words suddenly sinks in.

"Your _mother's_ things?" I repeat, baffled. I whirl around to face him, just in time to catch sight of a stunned, slightly worried expression on his face. However, a moment later the expression vanishes, replaced by one of apparent distress.

"My wife's. My wife's things." Dipping his head slightly, he runs his hand across his brow, sighing, "My memory, I'm afraid, is not what it used to be. I find I get my words confused…"

No, that's not right. Odin may be a lot of things, but he's certainly not senile. Thor's always telling me how sharp his father's mind is. So clearly this isn't Odin, it's an imposter - he meant it when he referred to Frigga as his mother. But Frigga and Odin only had two children, so it could only be…

"Loki?" I utter, before I can stop myself. I'm about to wince at how ridiculous I'm being (Because really, how can it be Loki?! I saw him die!) and demand that the intruder tell me who he really is, when I notice Odin's, or "Not-Odin's", reaction. He's doing a good job of keeping his cool and he seems more surprised than worried, but I'm sure I can see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. It's so subtle that I wouldn't have seen it unless I was looking for it, but it's definitely there.

"Why do you talk such nonsense? Loki died on Svartelheim…"

"No, you are Loki, I can tell! What are you doing here?!"

In an instant, his gaze darkens and it's almost as if I can see Loki beneath the disguise, his menacing and calculating glare peering out from behind Odin's eye.

"I must admit you're clever for a Midgardian. Unfortunately you're a little too clever for your own good," he growls, advancing toward me.

Oh no. Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut? Spinning round, I race towards the door, but before I can reach it, it slams itself shut and I hear the lock click into place. Looking back over my shoulder, I see Loki, still in Odin's form, smirk triumphantly.

"One of the many advantages of my magic, Miss Foster, is that I rarely need to chase after people. Why bother when I can open and close a door with a simple wave of my hand?"

He's only a couple of feet away from me now. I can't call out for help; most of the guards have been given the night off, so no-one will hear me. I'd just be wasting my breath. My only hope is to try to find some other way out of here. Maybe there's a window somewhere?

As Loki closes in on me, I leap to one side and dash past him, heading to the other side of Odin's chamber. However, I barely make it half-way across the room before his hand catches hold of my wrist, rooting me to the spot. Twisting my body around, I attempt to throw a punch at him with my spare hand, but he grabs that one too, effectively trapping me.

"Let me go!"

He chuckles mockingly. "You have spirit. Is that why Thor's so fond of you? Or is it simply because you're meddlesome, just like he is? Both of you constantly interfering in things that don't concern you…"

Despite my fear of Loki, I feel a spark of anger flare up in me. "Leave Thor out of this!" I snap. Ignoring what my parents taught me about never hitting an elderly person (this is Loki, after all), I lift my leg and manage to kick him squarely in the stomach. Crying out in pain, he pushes me away from him with such force that I'm knocked off my feet. As I fall backwards, I feel a terrible pain surge through my skull as my head collides with something. The room around me is spinning and suddenly everything starts to fade away into black…

Loki's POV

Clutching my stomach, I gasp slowly, trying to regain some of the breath that little Midgardian shrew kicked out of me. I'll see to it that she regrets her actions later.

Feeling some of my strength returning, I raise my head, half expecting to see Jane engaged in some futile attempt to escape. However, the sight that greets me takes me completely by surprise. Rather than racing around the bed-chamber, Jane is lying motionless on the floor beside the desk. I frown in suspicion. Could she have fainted? Midgardian women are weaker than their Asgardian counterparts, so they may be prone to that sort of thing. But then again, this is the same woman who has been confronted by a Destroyer and an army of Dark Elves without so much as swooning, so it seems unlikely that she would pass out in a situation such as this. Perhaps she's trying to deceive me, to trick me into lowering my guard. Well, if that's what she's playing at, she won't succeed – I am a master of deception, I'll see through her in an instant.

Removing my hands from my stomach, I stand up straight and make my way over to her, watching closely for any signs of movement. She remains completely still. When I reach her side, I raise my foot and prod her in the back with the tip of my toes, but she shows no reaction. Clearly she's been knocked unconscious – she must have struck her head against the side of the desk when I pushed her away from me. How remarkably fortunate! It will be much easier to deal with her now.

It takes me little time to decide what to do with her. When I took Odin's place, I knew there was a danger that I may one day be discovered- I am not a fool. I devised several ways to protect my identity if anyone should learn the truth. Now that these events have finally come to pass, it is time for me to put my plans into action. Bending down, I slide one of my arms under Jane's legs and the other arm under her shoulder blades before standing up, hoisting her inert body up with me. I quickly utter the incantation for one of my transportation spells and smirk as our two bodies become engulfed in green light. This pesky woman will be in for quite an unpleasant surprise when she eventually wakes…

Author's note: So, there we go, chapter two. I've already shared this with one reviewer, but I'd like to make it known to all: the first few updates on this story will be pretty quick because I've already written three or four chapters. However, I'm still in the process of writing this story and it's going to be a pretty long one, so there may be a longer wait for updates in the future. I'll still try to update as quickly as I can, though.

Having said that, reviews _do_ make me work faster *naughty grin* I love feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

Third person POV

Meanwhile, elsewhere on Asgard…

"So there we were: surrounded by these enemy warriors, completely outnumbered and with no hope of escape. For a moment, it looked like all was lost. But then, I drew my sword, lunged forward and started to slay as many as I could and my friends, inspired by my courage, followed me…"

"Really?" The barmaid gasped in awe, staring at Fandral with wide eyes, "How many did you fight off?"

"Oh, I lost count, my dear. Twenty at least, maybe even thirty."

"Is that so, Fandral?" Volstagg interrupted, "Clearly your memory is much sharper than mine, because I can only recall you slaying four or five warriors."

The blond man glared at his companion. "Yes, well, as I was saying to this dear lady, it was all quite a long time ago, so I wouldn't expect you to remember exactly. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I'd drawn my weapon! And then what I did was…" Reaching out, Fandral took hold of an unlit candlestick and pulled it out of the holder in the centre of the table, using it as a makeshift sword, "…I drove them back with my amazing swordsmanship! First I used this old move on them, then I used this one…" At this point, he rose to his feet and started sauntering down the length of the table, waving his candlestick wildly.

Volstagg rolled his eyes, while Thor and Sif, who were sitting on the other side of the table, roared with laughter. As their giggles eventually subsided, Thor decided, somewhat reluctantly, that it was probably time for him to leave. After all, he had promised Jane that he wouldn't stay out for too long and he didn't want to think of her waiting around in their bed-chamber for him to return.

Pushing his empty tankard aside, Thor got to his feet. "My friends, it has been wonderful seeing you all again, but I fear I must leave. I hope my absence won't dampen your spirits."

"Already?" Sif asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Surely not, Thor? Not while the night's still so young?" Volstagg replied.

Fandral, overhearing Volstagg's last question, stopped abruptly in his battle re-enactment and turned around. "What's this? What's going on?"

"Thor's about to leave," Volstagg explained.

"Why, you can't do that, old boy - we haven't seen you for months! What's more, now that you're living on Midgard, who's to know when our next meeting will be? Couldn't you spare another hour or so with us?"

Sif, guessing the reason behind Thor's desire to leave, stood up beside him and leaned in to whisper in his ear, in order to prevent embarrassing him: "I'm sure Jane wouldn't mind if you stayed here a little longer. I doubt you get much of a chance to celebrate like this on Midgard – she would probably be pleased to think that you were enjoying yourself for a change."

Thor glanced down at Sif as he reflected on her words. She had a point; it was true that he didn't get much time to drink and be merry while he was on Midgard. There were so many disasters – both natural and man-made – that he felt compelled to try and solve that often he could be fighting opponents and saving people for days on end, only stopping at night so that he could sleep and regain some of his energy. What's more, he had missed his friends while he had been away – obviously, if it had been the other way around and he had been separated from Jane that would have been far worse, but he frequently found himself wishing that his comrades could be there with him.

Maybe he could spend a little longer here. He could still return to Jane at a reasonable time – it wasn't as if he'd be out all night.

"Very well," Thor smiled, sitting back down, "You've persuaded me. But only…" he added, in a mock-serious tone, "…on one condition: Fandral, you put that candlestick down before you poke someone in the eye."

The blond man laughed. "If I can be trusted with a sword, I can be trusted with a candle! But I'll do as you ask."

"Quite right, Thor," Volstagg said approvingly when they were all seated again, "You wouldn't want to leave us before we've had the chance to get some proper drinking underway!"

"Ah!" Fandral exclaimed, snapping his fingers as if suddenly remembering something, "Proper drinking! That reminds me: Lady Sif, you owe me a rematch."

Sif grinned slightly smugly. "Really, Fandral? Are you sure you want to be defeated a second time?"

"A rematch to what, exactly?" Thor inquired curiously.

"A drinking competition," Fandral explained, "On the previous occasion, I am ashamed to say, Sif managed to out-drink me. Though I've no idea what sort of trickery she used in order to do so…"

"You know perfectly well that I beat you fair and square. And I'm about to do so again!" Sif replied confidently.

"I don't understand why the two of you are so competitive," Volstagg said, "Does it really matter whether one of you can hold your ale better than the other? Thor was able to out-drink all of us for centuries!"

"True, but that's all in the past. Can you remember the last time Thor joined us in a serious drinking competition? I certainly don't!" Fandral turned to face Thor. "You've probably lost your touch now, haven't you, old boy?"

Thor smirked. After his banishment to Earth, he had lost most of his former arrogance. However, it could not be denied that he still had a competitive streak in him – a streak which Fandral's remarks had now caused to resurface. "You'll be regretting those words, my friend, when you're lying on the floor in a drunken daze while I celebrate my victory!"

"You mean to say you're joining us?" Sif asked.

"Of course! Nobody mocks my drinking ability and gets away with it!"

"Wonderful!" Fandral declared, slapping his hand against the table enthusiastically, "It'll be just like old times! You'll take part too, won't you Volstagg?"

"No, Fandral, I'm going to sit quietly at the end of the table and drink water for the rest of the night," Volstagg replied sarcastically, "Obviously I'm joining you!"

"Right then!" Turning back to the barmaid, who had been watching the whole exchange with growing excitement, Fandral said: "My dear, would you kindly fetch us four tankards of ale? The strongest in the house!"

The barmaid nodded and hurried off, returning a couple of minutes later to place four very large tankards on the table. As the assembled warriors prepared to take their first drink, Sif raised her tankard to Thor and said, half as a toast and half as a challenge: "Who knows? Maybe I'll even succeed in stealing your title as the best drinker in all of Asgard!"

"We'll see about that," Thor smiled, though there was no doubt in his mind that he would emerge as the winner. His friends had never been able to hold their ale as well as he could – he'd be able to drink them under the table and return to Jane in no more than an hour.


	4. Chapter 4

Jane's POV

My head hurts. Why does my head hurt? That doesn't make sense. Groggily, I shift my position, my hand reaching up to the back of my skull, trying to locate the source of the pain. Ouch, ouch! I flinch as my fingers brush against a large bump.

The sharp pain jolts me out of my semi-awake, semi-asleep state and I begin to stir. My eyes open, but at first all I can see is darkness – complete, pitch-black darkness. It's almost like I've been blindfolded, but I know that's not the case. If I were blindfolded I'd have felt the material tied over my eyes. I lift my head slightly and as I do I catch a glimpse of a light shining somewhere in the distance. I'm certainly not in the room I've been sharing with Thor; the drapes in there are so thin that there's always a little bit of light shining in from outside. Where am I? And how did I get here? The last thing I remember doing is going into Odin's room…

LOKI! I push myself off the floor, sitting bolt upright as the memory of my discovery comes rushing back to me. What is he doing here? He's supposed to be dead! And what is he doing posing as Odin? Where's the real Odin? Has he…has he killed him?! If he's murdered Thor's dad I'm going to give him a piece of my mind!

I give an irritated sigh. After what happened on Svartelheim, I thought I'd finally figured Loki out: he was a nasty piece of work, but it seemed like he did have some redeeming qualities. He protected me from the Dark Elves during battle and he sacrificed himself to save Thor – for me that was proof that there was actually some good in him. Obviously it wasn't enough to make me forgive him for killing all those people on Earth, but it made me question whether or not he really was the ruthless tyrant that all those news channels portrayed him as being. Well, talk about making a hasty judgement!

I suppose it's possible that I may have gotten the wrong idea. It may turn out that there's actually a completely innocent explanation for all of this, but I highly doubt it. If there was nothing shady going on, why would Loki get so aggressive when I discovered his true identity? And why would he put me in this dark, cold place? I think it's pretty safe to assume he was the one who moved me – how else could I have wound up here?

But where exactly is here? My eyes are beginning to adjust to the darkness and I can just about make out a bizarre, towering shape in front of me. It looks almost like it's made out of the branches of a tree; countless branches stretching outwards, crossing over one another and becoming entwined, creating this weird pattern. I can see the light source gleaming through the gaps in the branches. The light's on the other side, though – is this thing a door of some kind? Climbing to my feet, I begin to walk over to it. The floor beneath me is uneven, so I have to tread slowly and carefully to avoid tripping over. As I draw closer, I catch sight of a flaming torch burning in the distance – so that's where the light's coming from! I'm now a few feet away from the strange shape. I stop to examine it and, when I do so, my heart sinks. It is indeed a door, but those things aren't branches – they're bars. I must be in a prison cell!

I reach out to grasp hold of two of the bars and then, keeping a firm grip on them, I lean back, pulling with all my might. It's no use, though – I can tell from the weight of these bars that they must be made of solid metal. There's no chance of them breaking. The rest of it feels pretty secure too – I'm tugging as hard as I can but the door isn't even shaking in its frame. I let go with a disappointed huff. I need to change my tactics here. If I can't tear through the bars, maybe I could try to pick the lock? If it works for private investigators it's probably worth a shot.

I wore my hair up when I went to the feast, which meant I had to stick a large number of hair pins in there in a desperate attempt to keep it all in place. Sliding one of the pins out of my hair, I bend down and start searching for the keyhole, only to discover that there doesn't seem to be one. The bars simply stretch out into the door-frame; there's no lock at all. But if there's no lock, how did Loki get me in here?

However, I don't have time to dwell on this, because a moment later I hear footsteps in the distance. I hastily place the pin back in my hair and sneak into the corner beside the door, peering around it to see who's coming. Through the bars, I catch sight of a tall figure approaching my cell. As it draws nearer, the light from the flaming torch illuminates its features. I feel my blood run cold as I glimpse its pale white skin and long, flowing black hair. It's Loki, back in his regular form. And he's carrying something in his hands.

Tearing my gaze away, I retreat back into the corner and press myself up against the wall. Maybe he's coming into the cell. Maybe, if I stay where I am right now and don't make a sound, he won't know where I am at first. Maybe, if he leaves the door open, I can make a run for it.

I hear the footsteps come closer and closer until eventually they stop. There's a pause. I hold my breath.

"Hiding, Miss Foster?" Loki calls out, "How remarkably childish."

He mutters a string of words I don't recognise and suddenly a stream of green light rushes through the bars, floating over to the centre of the cell before bursting outwards, filling the whole chamber with a bright light. I release the breath I've been holding in, burning with disappointment. There goes my escape plan.

I emerge from my corner and walk over to the door, keeping an eye on Loki. He's stooping to place whatever he was carrying on the floor outside the cell. It's not visible from the doorway, so I still don't have any clue what it is. Having said that, I'm still pretty sure it's not going to be anything good. Loki straightens up again and places the flat of his palm against the door, uttering another sequence of bizarre words. A moment later the door swings open and he steps inside my cell. Magic, of course! I should've guessed that was how he got me in here.

Without wanting to sound poetic, my mind is literally a whirlpool of emotions right now: fear, anger and curiosity are all swirling around inside me, each one striving for dominance, each fighting to be the feeling that determines my next action. In the end, it's not one emotion that wins the struggle, but two. My anger and curiosity become combined into a kind of annoyed confusion and I blurt out, half as a question, half as an accusation: "Why aren't you dead?"

His lips curl upwards into a smirk, as if he finds my query more amusing than offensive. "That's a fine way to show your gratitude. Have you forgotten how I assisted you and Thor in your attempts to save the universe from the Dark Elves?"

"I appreciated the help, sure. But that doesn't make up for all the other things you've done."

"You're still holding my earlier actions against me?"

"Yes, of course I am!" My voice rises in anger. "Let's recap: you nearly killed Thor in New Mexico, you murdered countless people when you tried to take over Earth and you brainwashed a very close friend of mine!"

Unbelievably, his smirk grows even wider. "Ah yes, how is Doctor Selvig?"

"None of your business."

"I can assure you that although Selvig was under my control, he rather enjoyed the time he spent with me. When he was studying the Tesseract, his eyes were alight with glee…"

I can't take any more of this! It was bad enough watching Eric fall to pieces after Loki's hold on him was broken, I don't want to know what he went through beforehand! "Look, stop it, stop! Quit distracting me. You still haven't answered my question. I saw you die on Svartelheim!"

"On the contrary, you _thought_ you saw me die. In actual fact, that wasn't me at all. You merely witnessed the demise of my doppelganger."

"Your doppelganger?"

He sighs and then begins to explain in a patronising tone of voice: "It's a term used to describe a…"

"I know what it is! But I still don't understand…"

"Then, if you stop interrupting me, I'll enlighten you."

I fall silent, grudgingly.

"I have been practicing the art of sorcery for centuries, long before your people even began to contemplate the study of the stars. During that time I have acquired a wide array of skills, including the ability to create an exact physical likeness of myself. Not merely an illusion, but a corporeal being able to carry out the same tasks as you or I. When I joined you and Thor on your quest I was fully aware that as soon as Malekith was vanquished Thor would not hesitate to drag me back to Asgard and leave me to rot in my cell like a common criminal. A year in that wretched place was enough for me and I had no intention of returning. However, if I merely ran away, I knew that Thor would pursue me, so in order to secure my freedom, I had to appear to die. During the battle on Svartelheim, I saw my opportunity to escape. I created my doppelganger and sent it away to attack the beast that was threatening Thor. As I predicted, not only did it succeed in slaying the beast, it also sustained a fatal injury in the process. While you and Thor gathered round to watch my doppelganger draw his last breath, I was safely concealed behind a rock a short distance away, watching the whole spectacle."

I nod, taking this all in. I hate to admit it, but I'm a little impressed by his cunning. I wouldn't dream of telling him that, though – unless, of course, I have to try to sweet-talk my way out of here. "That explains one thing. But what about Odin? What have you done with him?"

He tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. "A curious choice of words; by "done with" I assume you're trying to imply that I caused some terrible misfortune to befall him?"

I hesitate, not sure how to respond. Saying "yes" might antagonise him, whereas "no" would be a blatant lie, one which he'd probably pick up on. Instead, I settle on a fairly neutral: "Did you?"

"No, I did not. Odin _was_ the victim of a misfortune but it had nothing to do with me. After deceiving you and Thor on Svartelheim I returned to Asgard in order to retrieve a valuable possession of mine from my former chambers. It was a talisman, before you ask…" he adds slightly wearily (clearly my feelings of suspicion must have registered on my face), "…which I wanted for sentimental reasons alone – it is quite harmless. I conjured a spell which allowed me to assume the form of one of the palace guards, which I then used to gain entry to Asgard and to my chambers. Having located my talisman I then prepared to take my leave of this place, but as I passed by the royal hall I noticed Odin's figure slumped back against the throne. At first I thought he had fallen unconscious, but when I went to investigate I discovered that he was not breathing. Nor could I find a pulse. The old man had simply passed away. I am no healer, but if I were to attempt to deduce the cause of his death, I would say that the combined stress of the Dark Elves' attack and Frigga's demise was all too much for him."

Does Loki really expect me to believe that? That Odin just dropped dead? "Seems very convenient…" I reply, my scepticism evident in my voice.

He must have anticipated that this would be my reaction, because he just smiles, appearing completely at ease. "I did not expect you to be convinced, Miss Foster. I too found it difficult to believe that such good fortune had come my way. And when an opportunity like that presents itself, only a fool would allow it to pass him by."

"So you disposed of the real Odin's body, disguised yourself as him and took his place."

"You needn't sound so disapproving. After all, what have I done wrong? Odin perished by natural causes. Someone needs to ascend to the throne. Thor does not want it – he'd rather be frolicking about on Midgard with you. As I am the next in line, the responsibilities of ruling Asgard fall upon me. However, since many of my subjects would be unwilling to forgive my past actions – none of which, I might add, actually threatened the safety of Asgard – I am forced to conceal my true identity in order to take what should have been mine from the very beginning."

Wow, this guy really knows how to paint himself as the victim. If he'd had the chance he'd probably have ordered a group of violinists to come into the cell and start playing in the background. "That still doesn't give you the right to deceive everyone! You…"

"_Do not lecture me on what I am and am not entitled to do_!" He snaps, his composure crumbling in an instant. I jump in surprise, suddenly worried that I've gone too far, that I've somehow managed to work him up into the same state of rage he was in earlier when he confronted me in Odin's room. However, a moment later the anger just dissipates, as if he conjured it away using one of his spells. He calms himself, the self-confident smile returns to his face and he continues like the outburst never happened: "You know nothing of the affairs that took place in the Asgardian court over the centuries. I am and always have been the rightful heir to the throne and I will continue to rule regardless of whether or not you know my secret. Which reminds me…" At this point, he turns away from me and steps out of the cell, bending down to collect the mystery object he's left outside.

My heart skips a beat and I start backing away, expecting him to return at any moment clutching some kind of grotesque Asgardian torture device, or a weapon which he intends to murder me with. Much to my surprise, when he reappears in the doorway he's holding nothing more than a tray of food, consisting of a plate of bread on one side and a goblet on the other. I stop in my tracks in a mixture of relief and bewilderment.

"You will remain here until I have decided how to deal with you," he says, "In the meantime, I realise that means I will have to provide you with sustenance, so I brought these for you."

What? It can't be that simple, can it? Loki always has some ulterior motive. Why would he feel the need to bring me food? Why not just let me starve? As he carries the tray into the cell I suddenly realise what he's trying to do. I gasp in horror and, as he draws closer to me, I raise my hands in an attempt to keep him away: "No, no!"

"What now?" He utters, exasperated.

Trying to keep my voice from shaking, I reply as steadily as I can: "You've poisoned it, haven't you?"

"Don't be absurd, of course I haven't! Does your paranoia know no bounds?"

"Prove it, then!" I demand.

He sighs in frustration. "Very well. Hold this," he instructs, practically thrusting the tray into my open hands. I watch intently as he reaches out, tears off a small piece of bread and lifts it to his lips. He places it in his mouth and chews for a few seconds before swallowing. "Satisfied?" He asks.

I look away from him, turning my gaze to the goblet which he's left untouched. The liquid inside is clear and looks exactly like ordinary water, but it will take more than that to reassure me. If being around Loki has taught me one thing, it's that nothing is as it seems. "What about the water?"

"I think I've indulged your whims far enough, don't you?"

"I'm not drinking a drop of that stuff until I've seen you taste it."

"Then you are going to make yourself extremely thirsty, because the only food and water you'll receive is that which I give you and I'm not consuming any more of it." Having made his point, he turns his back to me and starts to head over to the door. As I watch him go, I feel a surge of indescribable panic. I have to get out of here! But how?! Maybe I should try to threaten him, or at least attempt to put some doubt in his mind.

"Your plan won't work!" I call after him.

He stops in the doorway, glancing back at me. "I beg your pardon?"

"Thor will notice I'm gone! He'll come looking for me! Wherever this place is, he'll eventually find it and then you'll have him to answer to!"

To my dismay, Loki bursts out laughing. "Your unwavering faith in my brother really does amuse me," he chuckles, "I hate to disappoint you, but he does not stand the slightest chance of finding you here. You are not even on Asgardian soil – I have placed you upon a deserted planet on the very outskirts of the Nine Realms. I came upon this abandoned planet and its disused prison shortly before I met the Chitauri. Not that Thor will have any reason to come looking for you. He will believe you've never left his side."

"What are you talking about?"

He grins enigmatically. "It is not only myself that I can create a doppelganger of."

My heart sinks as my last remaining hopes are crushed. He's created a copy of me! Thor won't realise I'm gone! I'm starting to feel a bit light-headed. No, no, I've got to keep it together; I can't afford to freak out now. I can't let Loki see I'm afraid. "He'll know it's not me!" I argue, but my voice doesn't sound convincing even to my own ears.

"Ever the optimist, aren't you? I almost regret the fact that your spirit will soon be broken. _Almost_." He turns away from me again, this time leaving the cell for good. I watch helplessly as he closes the door behind him and locks it with the same spell he used when he came in. A moment later his hand slides through a gap in the bars and he clicks his fingers, extinguishing the light in the cell and plunging me back into darkness.

As I stand here in the dark and the cold, gripping the tray and listening to the retreating sound of Loki's footsteps, only one thought is running through my mind: What do I do now?


	5. Chapter 5

Third person POV

Sif was gradually becoming aware of a persistent throbbing pain in her head. She groaned and tried her best to ignore it, in the hope that she could fall back asleep. In an attempt to make herself more comfortable, she started to turn over onto her other side. However, as she rolled over, her nose collided with something hard, causing a sharp pain to shoot up the centre of her face. The pain in her nose combined with her aching head was enough to wake her up completely. Cursing under her breath, Sif opened her eyes to find herself staring at the underside of an overturned chair – presumably the thing she'd hit her nose against. Turning her head to the side and looking around her, she discovered that she was lying on the tavern's grubby stone floor. She frowned, bemused. She couldn't recall how she'd wound up on the floor; in fact, many of the events of the previous night now escaped her recollection entirely.

Slowly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, grunting with the effort. Then, leaning across, she placed both hands firmly on the chair, using it to support her weight as she climbed to her feet. Unfortunately, she got up far more quickly than she'd intended to and no sooner had she stood upright than she felt a sudden rush of blood to her head. This, in addition to her alcohol-induced headache, overwhelmed her with dizziness and she stumbled forward, throwing her hands on top of the nearest table in order to prevent herself from falling to the floor. For several minutes she remained like this: her body bent over the table, her head bowed and all the while promising to herself that she would never _ever_ allow herself to get into such a state again. Eventually her wooziness began to subside and she raised her head, casting her eye around the tavern.

The place looked as though it had been ransacked by barbarians. The floor was littered with empty tankards and smashed goblets, countless tables had been turned over and on the far side of the room a door had very nearly been wrenched off its hinges – one hinge remained intact, but it looked like it was going to snap in two at any moment. Nearby, Fandral was seated on a chair with the barmaid on his lap, the two of them locked in a very passionate kiss. Volstagg, meanwhile, was slumped in a corner, gazing up at the ceiling and grinning inanely. Having located two of her companions, Sif then attempted to find Thor, only to discover that he was nowhere to be seen.

Her first instinct was to ask Fandral for information. However, realising that he probably wouldn't appreciate her interrupting his kiss (and with her head feeling like it currently was, a shouting match with Fandral was the last thing she wanted), she quickly thought better of it and decided to address Volstagg instead.

"Volstagg?" She croaked in a hoarse voice. Embarrassed, she coughed repeatedly to clear her throat and then tried again, louder this time: "Volstagg?"

The long-bearded warrior turned his gaze away from the ceiling and towards Sif's face, his eyes becoming slightly more focused.

"Can you recall what happened last night?" She asked him.

Volstagg burst into a fit of laughter, apparently finding her question very amusing. "You…ha ha ha ha…you do not remember?!" He managed to splutter through his giggles.

"I can remember us all agreeing to participate in a drinking competition, but the events of the rest of the night remain a mystery to me."

Volstagg took a deep breath to try and stifle his chuckles. When he finally calmed down, he replied: "Fear not: I will tell you all that occurred. To tell the truth, the drinking competition did not last terribly long – not by our standards, anyway! Fandral withdrew at the seventh round; he said that he'd much rather devote his time and attention to kissing the barmaid and that if he had much more to drink it would impair his ability to do so. Shortly afterwards, I started to feel quite inebriated. I must admit that since the birth of my children I haven't been frequenting the tavern as much as I used to, so I fear I am no longer able to hold my ale like I once was. I also withdrew from the competition, but you and Thor persevered. Each of you was determined to beat the other."

"Who won?" Sif asked eagerly.

"In the end, nobody did. You both reached a stage at which it became clear that neither of you could bear to drink another tankard. However, rather than call a draw, Thor suggested that the matter could be settled by some other means – through a demonstration of strength. Whoever proved themselves to be the strongest would have won the competition. Thor went first and for his demonstration he decided to turn over every table on this side of the tavern. So he charged along, pushing over every table in his path, but clearly he must have been more drunk than he realised, because when he reached the end of the room he failed to stop in time and he crashed into the door! It couldn't take his weight, of course, so it flew open, nearly coming off its hinges, sending Thor flying into the street outside! At which point you started laughing so heartily that you tipped both yourself and your chair over, collapsed onto the floor and fell into unconsciousness!" Once again Volstagg began to convulse with uncontrollable laughter: "A very…ha ha…very memorable night indeed!"

At any other time Sif probably would have joined Volstagg in his merriment, but right now she was too preoccupied with finding Thor. Having finally been given a clue to his whereabouts, she began to make her way toward the open doorway, placing her hands against the wall to steady herself as she went along. After gingerly stepping over all the smashed glass and edging her way around the overturned tables, she eventually reached the doorway and stepped outside.

Dawn had broken over Asgard and the rays of the early morning sun were beginning to shine over the city, illuminating the street outside the tavern. Stepping forwards, Sif caught sight of Thor lying face-down in the middle of the street, his arms stretched out above his head as if he had been attempting to perform some sort of dive. As she approached his slumbering figure, he stirred slightly and mumbled a string of nonsense words under his breath.

Sitting down on the ground beside Thor (because Sif was fairly certain that if she attempted to bend down it would only result in her losing her balance and falling over), she took hold of his shoulders and gently shook him to and fro. "Thor, wake up! Wake up!"

He groaned and shifted to the side, moving away from her touch. "Not yet, Jane…" he muttered sleepily.

Sif felt a stab of jealousy as her mind became filled with the mental image of Thor and the Midgardian woman lying side-by-side in bed together, she embracing him as he awoke from his sleep…how often Sif wished she was in that woman's place. However, she did not have time to dwell on that now. Grabbing his shoulders, she shook him again, firmer than she had the first time. "It is not Jane, it is Sif. Thor, you must wake up! Now!"

Rolling over onto his back, Thor yawned and finally opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Sif's face peering down at him with an expression of faint concern before his gaze moved upwards to study the sky. Seeing that it was stained red and gold with the light of the rising sun, his eyes widened in horror.

"It is morning already?!" He exclaimed, pushing himself off the ground and trying to clamber to his feet. "Why did you not wake me sooner, Sif?"

"I could not, I have only just woken myself. Here, let me assist you." Sliding her arm underneath Thor's, Sif steadied him as he attempted to stand upright. Once he was safely on his feet, he patted her on the back by way of thanks before he broke away from her and started to shakily walk away.

"Where are you going now?" Sif called after him.

"I must return to Jane! She has probably been waiting for me all night!"

"But you're in no fit state to go anywhere! You need to rest!"

"I will have ample opportunity to rest when I reach my bedchamber!"

"But Thor…" Sif trailed off, realising that she was wasting her breath. He clearly wasn't going to take any notice of her warnings. As she watched Thor stumble away into the distance, she felt a hand tap her tentatively on the shoulder. She turned around to see the owner of the tavern standing beside her; he appeared quite agitated and was nervously wringing his hands together as he addressed her.

"My apologies for troubling you, Lady Sif," he murmured in a quiet, anxious voice, as if he was expecting her to throw a punch at him at any moment, "But I was hoping you could tell me which member of your company will be paying for the damage?"

Sif sighed. She could still hear Volstagg chuckling away to himself inside the tavern (and in his current state of inebriation he didn't seem able to do much else) and she knew full-well that it would take nothing short of a declaration of war with Jotunheim to make Fandral break away from a kiss with an attractive lady. "I think…" she replied resignedly, "…that responsibility probably falls upon me. If you'll follow me, I've just left my purse inside…"

…

Third Person POV

By the time Thor reached his bedchamber, the sun had risen considerably in the sky and its light was now streaming through every window in the palace. His journey from the gates up to his chamber, which usually took him only a short amount of time, had been transformed into a long and arduous trek due to his hangover. Before today, he hadn't given much thought to the long spiral staircases that lead up to the royal chambers – he used to believe that they were designed in that way to be decorative and didn't serve any real function. However, in his current state, with his splitting headache and general dizziness, he realised that these staircases did indeed serve a greater purpose and that purpose was to torture him. Nevertheless, he soldiered on, climbing staircase after staircase, gripping on to the banisters and thinking to himself that the palace could really benefit from the addition of several of those Midgardian contraptions which were known as elevators (which Jane had recently introduced him to).

And now, as he leaned against the wall outside his chambers, pausing to get his breath back, he knew that his ordeal was not over yet. He still had to apologise to Jane. Even if she had gone to sleep as soon as she left the feast, she would have woken by now, noticed his absence and concluded that he had stayed out all night – a fact which Thor was certain would anger her considerably. Still, he supposed it was nothing less than he deserved; he had told her he wouldn't stay out too long and he had broken his promise. He truly hoped that Jane's scolding wouldn't involve her raising her voice, though, because loud noises were something he really couldn't endure at the moment. Bracing himself for the worst, Thor retrieved his key, unlocked the door and entered the chamber.

Jane's doppelganger was sat up in bed, her head resting against a pillow which she had propped up against the headboard. She was holding a book in one hand and a half-eaten pastry in the other (proof that she had already rung the bell for service and asked one of the royal attendants to bring her some breakfast). As Thor closed the door behind him she looked up from her book and gave him a warm smile.

"Good morning! So, did you have fun?" She asked.

Thor stared at her, completely taken aback. There wasn't the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice; she sounded as if she was being sincere. Was she trying to trick him, to lull him into a false sense of security? That didn't seem like the sort of thing Jane would do. Thor couldn't think of a single occasion in the past when she had tried to deceive him. Nevertheless, he decided not to take any chances and, instead of answering her question, he replied: "Jane, I cannot apologise enough for leaving you alone for the whole night, but I swear to you I do not do so intentionally. I lost all awareness of time and…"

"Oh, that doesn't matter!" She insisted, putting her pastry down so she could wave her hand dismissively, "There's no need to apologise! I mean, this is technically a vacation for you – why shouldn't you be out there, having a good time?"

Thor's stare was now accompanied by his jaw dropping in astonishment. He couldn't have been more surprised if Volstagg had suddenly announced that he had completely lost his appetite for food and that from now on he intended to have no more than one meal per day. "You are not displeased? Not at all?"

"Of course not! I was way too tired to wait up for you. I slept the whole night through." In an instant, her smile morphed into a frown and she leaned forward, scrutinising him closely. "Are you okay? You really don't look well."

For a moment he considered lying to her, claiming that he was absolutely fine, because even though they were now in a stable, committed relationship, he still had a great desire to impress Jane. He wanted to retain the illusion of being unbeatably strong – if he admitted that he was in a weakened condition (and that it had only taken a night of uncontrolled drinking to put him in such a state), the illusion would be broken. However, there was no denying the fact that he felt truly terrible, the worst he'd felt in a very long time. Right now all he really wanted to do was collapse on the bed and remain there until his hangover eventually passed, or at least lessened in intensity. So, abandoning his pride, he confessed: "No, I'm afraid I do not feel well at all. I have the most dreadful ache in my head…"

"Oh, Thor." The doppelganger's voice was filled with sympathy. Putting her book and pastry on the dressing-table, she hopped off the bed and pulled back the covers for him. "C'mere, lie down. It's probably better if you go over there; I think I've got crumbs all over my side."

"Are you sure, Jane?" Thor asked as he climbed onto the bed and settled down, "It does not seem fair to you after last night."

"Shhhh, it's fine, it's fine. I'm happy to just read my book. Or maybe I'll go wander round the palace if I get bored. Make yourself comfortable and I'll fetch you a glass of water."

Thor sighed with relief as his aching head came to rest on the pillow and he reached out to squeeze her hand gratefully. "Thank you, Jane."

She smiled and hurried off into the bathroom. Thor's hangover had taken such a toll on him that he was fast asleep by the time she returned with his drink. After placing the glass by the side of the bed, the doppelganger sat down in the corner with Jane's book and waited for Thor to awaken.


	6. Chapter 6

Jane's POV

I can't say for certain how long I've been in this cell for. Due to the lack of windows, I have no access at all to the outside world; I have no idea whether it's day or night, when the sun rose or when it set. But then again, I'm assuming that the length of days on this planet is identical to that of Earth's. It's always possible that this planet takes a longer or shorter amount of time to rotate on its axis, which would mean that the number of days that have passed while I've been here would give me no clear indication of how many days have passed on Earth. I still wish I could look outside, though. I'm not claustrophobic, but being trapped in this dark, enclosed space is really starting to get to me.

I've been trying to calculate how much time has passed based on how often I've felt the need to sleep. I don't take naps during the daytime - I only sleep at night - and I've slept three times since Loki walked out of that doorway, so that would make it roughly three days. It's by no means the most accurate way to calculate the passage of time, but it's the best I can do. It certainly feels like several days have passed. When I've been awake, I've had to tolerate these long stretches of time – which are boring almost to the point of being unbearable – where I've literally had nothing else to do but stare through the bars into the corridor or pace up and down the cell like a caged animal. Those periods of time seem to last an eternity. Of course, it's equally possible that time just seems to be dragging simply because I don't have enough to do. Boredom always affects your perception of time. What's more, it may be the case that I'm sleeping more frequently than I usually do without realising it. I've had nothing to eat or drink since the feast, so the lack of food and water must be making me weaker, more easily exhausted...

As if on cue, my stomach rumbles loudly. Reaching down, I rest my hands on top of it, as if the act of me touching it will magically cause it to settle down. I brush my fingertips over the skin, shocked by how flat my belly has become. Its usual curve has vanished, leaving only an even plane of flesh in its place. It feels like I'm examining the small of someone's back. My stomach growls yet again and I glance over to the tray, which I've left in the light of the doorway. There is no doubt in my mind that the goblet contains poison – after all, if there were nothing wrong with it, why would Loki refuse to taste it? However, he _did_ taste the bread, so perhaps that's safe to eat? Despite the fact that my stomach's rumbling, I don't actually feel terribly hungry – I'd kill for a glass of water, though. But if I do have something to eat, at least it'll provide me with a short distraction, something to help pass the time. And even though it's a tiny snack rather than a decent meal, at least it would help me gain a little more weight.

Stepping away from the wall which I've been leaning against, I stride over to the doorway and lift the bread off the tray. It's in a long, roll-like shape, similar in style to a baguette, but still not quite the same thing. I locate the end which Loki tore a piece off and decide to start there, just to be on the safe side. My mouth starts to water slightly as I lean in and take a bite. AH! Oh, YUK! I retch in disgust as the bread lands on my tongue, the taste of it filling my mouth. It's unbelievably salty – it tastes even worse than those fat-soaked French fries you get at low-budget diners. And in my current dehydrated state the last thing I need is the taste of salt on my tongue. I lurch forwards and spit it out, but even after the bread's left my mouth its salty aftertaste continues to linger. I grind my teeth over the surface of my tongue and then open my mouth wide and wipe the back of my hand over it, but it's no good. I can still taste it and its making me thirstier than ever.

Oh Loki, you clever, clever bastard. What better way to ensure that I drink the poison? Not content with depriving me of anything else to drink, you also attempt to feed me the saltiest food possible, just to add to my discomfort. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but it's not going to work. I've watched enough documentaries about espionage and suicide pills to know what happens to someone after they ingest poison: the pain that can last for hours on end, the sensation of your internal organs burning, the whole pretty picture. And there's no way I'm going to endure that. If my choices are restricted to drinking the poison or dying of thirst, I'll take the latter. You'll win either way, but I'd like to believe that if I choose the second option, I'll go more peacefully.

My eyes start to brim with tears as the realisation that I may soon be facing death finally starts to sink in. This wasn't the way I wanted to go: wasting away in the cold and the dark, separated from everyone I love. No, stop it, Jane, stop it! I can't think like this! I've got to be brave – that's what Thor would do if he were in my shoes. And he's going to find me in time, I know it. He won't let me down.

I brush the tears away from my eyes, slightly ashamed of myself for giving up hope so quickly. I should have more faith in Thor. He'll see through that doppelganger and he'll come looking for me. In fact, he probably already is. In the meantime, all I can do is wait for him and refuse to give in to Loki's demands. It's not the most dynamic plan of action, but it's a plan nonetheless.

I smile to myself, feeling a little more positive. Placing the bread back on the plate, I then push the tray off into the corner, freeing up some space so I can lie down and look out of the doorway. After settling down on my side and making myself as comfortable as I can on the worn stone floor, I stare through the bars of the door into the corridor outside and I think about all the wine and delicious meals I'll treat myself to as soon as I get out of this place. However, I must be more tired than I previously thought, because I can feel my eyelids beginning to grow heavy and slowly, as if by their own will, they start to close…

Loki's POV

I knew it was probable that someone at some point would discover my true identity and I had my suspicions as to who that person would be. Thor seemed the most likely candidate, as he is now the only surviving member of Odin's family (a category which I certainly don't include myself in) and is therefore familiar with the old man's moods, mannerisms and so on. Although I too was raised by Odin (and what a misfortune that was!) and am therefore equally knowledgeable about the nature of his character, I was conscious of the risk that I may one day make some sort of slip-up in front of Thor, some sort of mistake which would lead him to believe that something was amiss. Or perhaps it would be one of the warriors – Lady Sif, for instance, whose close relationship with my mother brought her into fairly regular contact with Odin. But Jane Foster? I must confess that was something I did not anticipate at all. After all, she barely knew Odin – if it had not been for that ill-fated visit to my new bedchambers we would not even be in this current situation.

On our first meeting I found her to be not entirely unlikable - she was courageous, attractive and reasonably intelligent for a Midgardian. I must admit I was rather impressed when she struck me with her fist; spirited women have always appealed to me and the fact that such a blow had been dealt not by an Asgardian but by a puny Midgardian made it all the more remarkable. However, now that this woman has interfered with my plans and demonstrated a singularly gifted ability in destroying my mother's possessions it is fair to say that my opinion of her has significantly lowered. Whatever may have happened between us in the past – namely, when I saved her life on the battlefield – will offer her no protection now. I will deal with her in exactly the same way as I would have dealt with anyone else.

As I descend the stairs into the dungeon in order to check on my prisoner's condition, I reflect on how effectively I have managed to contain this little mishap. So far all my arrangements have gone as smoothly as I had hoped; Thor clearly believes the doppelganger to be his real lover and it appears I have succeeded in convincing Jane that she is marooned on some distant planet. If only that gullible woman knew the truth! Fortunately, I have only encountered two obstacles in the execution of my plans, the first being Jane's belief that I have murdered Odin. She did not say as much, but I could tell by her general manner that she was not convinced by my story. Granted, that story wasn't true, but neither is it true that I killed him. However, that is of little consequence, as she won't be given the opportunity to share her impressions with anyone else. No, the most problematic obstacle of the two is undoubtedly the second, namely, Jane's ridiculous notion that I have poisoned her drink. Perhaps that's indicative of my brother's influence over her; during their time together he has probably done all he can to persuade her that I am some monstrous villain, no better than Malekith. Small wonder, then, that she always expects the worst of me. But I am confident that this little problem has already been resolved. After all, I have left her for several days with nothing else to quench her thirst; by now she must have succumbed to her need to drink.

When I finally reach her cell, I quickly conjure another illumination spell and send it flying through the bars before I unlock the door and step inside. Jane is curled up on the floor in front of me, facing the doorway and seemingly in the depths of sleep. The tray is lying in the far corner of the cell – I can see from where I am currently standing that she has hardly touched the bread, but the distance is still too great for me to determine whether or not she has consumed the contents of the goblet. I draw closer to the tray in order to inspect it and growl in disappointment when I see that the goblet is still filled to the brim. This woman has been left with nothing else to drink for three days. Three days! She truly is as stubborn as my brother – what a perfect match they are for one another!

Searching for some way to vent my frustration, I decide to give her a particularly rude awakening. I remove the goblet from the tray and set it down on the floor before lifting the tray from the ground and marching back over to Jane's side. I position the tray in such a way so that when I release it from my grasp, it will land a few feet away from her head. After raising it up as high as my arms will allow, I let the tray slip from my fingers and watch as it tumbles to the floor. The worn stone flooring of the cell causes the tray to clatter and the china plate to smash in two, resulting in a piercing CLANG which reverberates off the walls of the chamber. Jane launches herself off the floor as if she had just received an electric shock and I glare down at her as she sits up to look at me, her eyes blinking rapidly as they try to adjust to the light cast by my illumination charm.

"You are determined to make things difficult, aren't you?"

"Well, thanks for that. That's exactly how I like to be woken up in the morning," she grumbles, her voice still slightly thick with drowsiness, "Having said that, is it actually the morning? It's kinda difficult to tell in here."

"Do not try to change the subject; my patience is wearing thin as it is. Why is it that despite my assurances that the water wasn't poisoned, you have still failed to drink any of it?"

"What does it matter to you whether I drink it or not?"

Is this woman incapable of answering a straightforward question?! "It matters to me because I will be forced to return you to Thor at some point. The doppelganger cannot remain with him for years on end – an apparition cannot age, after all! And when that time comes I would much rather return you as a living being, rather than as a corpse – if Thor were to find your dead body lying around in your home one day it would naturally arouse his suspicions. As weak as you Midgardians are, it is not commonplace for you to drop dead for no apparent reason."

"So you're asking me to drink it because you don't want me to die of thirst?"

"Precisely."

"I'm touched," she replies sarcastically.

"Don't be. Your death would not be a cause of grief for me; it would just be an inconvenience. And you've already caused quite enough of those."

She hesitates and lowers her gaze, apparently reflecting on what I have just said. After a few moments she looks up at me again. Much to my irritation, I can see that her eyes are still filled with suspicion. "Okay, I can see how keeping me alive works in your favour. So I accept that the water isn't poisoned, but there must be something wrong with it, because you wouldn't taste any!"

"I refused to do that because there is no need to! Can't you see that this is all just a ridiculous fantasy dreamt up by your vivid imagination? You may be willing to be a part of all this nonsense, but I'm certainly not!"

"Look, will you just…" She trails off and sighs, sounding slightly defeated. I watch her, waiting for her to throw her next accusation at me. "Please," she utters eventually. I blink, genuinely surprised. Of all the things I was expecting her to do, resorting to politeness wasn't among them! "Please, will you just taste some of it for me? I'm a scientist, okay? I need to see indisputable proof before I draw my conclusions. If you drink some right now and nothing happens to you, I promise you I'll drink everything that's left in the goblet."

Finally, she appears to be giving in! It took her long enough. Obviously, this situation is not ideal; that potion was meant to be consumed by her alone. However, I think I can safely afford to drink a small amount of it. As long as I remain separate from her during the actual procedure the potion shouldn't have any major effect upon me. "Very well, Foster; I will humour you just this once. Fetch it for me, will you?"

She does as she is instructed and climbs to her feet to retrieve it. When she brings it over to me I immediately take it from her grasp and lift it to my lips, drinking roughly a quarter of the contents before lowering the goblet again. She watches me intently, waiting for some grotesque side-effect to manifest itself. She looks so ridiculous that I cannot resist the urge to mock her.

"How astonishing – nothing's happened to me! I don't believe my eyes!" I exclaim, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

She ignores my little jibe and simply nods her head, appearing convinced. "Yeah, okay," she murmurs, holding out her hands so I can return the goblet to her. I have scarcely placed it in her grip before she raises it up to her mouth and eagerly starts to drink from it. Rather than sipping from it in a ladylike fashion, she tilts her head back and gulps it all down in one go, making vulgar slurping noises as she does so. I stare at her in a mixture of disgust and amusement. It's difficult to believe she attended a royal feast in the polite company of countless noblemen only a few nights ago! Although I must admit that if she had behaved in this way at the feast it certainly would have made the occasion a lot more entertaining.

Having finally drained the whole goblet, she lowers it from her mouth and uses the back of her hand to wipe the moisture from her lips. "Thanks."

I smile pleasantly. "You are most welcome. Now hold still."

Jane's eyes widen in alarm and I click my fingers, causing the tray to fly off the floor and soar across the air, heading towards the back of her head. She glances behind her and attempts to jump out of the way, but I restrain her by grabbing on to her shoulders, holding her in place. A moment later the tray strikes her head with considerable force and she cries out in pain, her body going limp as she is knocked unconscious. Resting the weight of her body on one arm, I slide my spare hand underneath her legs and lift her upwards so that she is now lying horizontally on my outstretched arms. As I turn around and carry her out of the cell, I grin with satisfaction. At last I can start to make some progress...

Third person POV

"The roses are beautiful, are they not, Jane?" Reaching out, Thor plucked one of the flowers away from the rest of the bush and offered it to her. "Here, smell it; the scent is far sweeter than that of any flower you will come across on Earth."

The doppelganger took the flower and held it up to her nose, inhaling its fragrance. "Mmmm, that's gorgeous! What's the name of this rose?"

"The Bloodied Hand."

The doppelganger shot him an incredulous look. "You're kidding me?"

"No, I promise you that is their name. The royal groundskeepers laboured for decade after decade to produce a rose that was identical in colour to fresh blood. One day, many hundreds of years ago, the summer flowers were beginning to come into bud and one of the apprentice groundskeepers was going about his duties, watering the plants, providing them with nutrients and so on. When he came upon the roses he was shocked to discover that they had bloomed into the vibrant red colour that you see before you now. He instantly ran to fetch the chief groundskeeper and, when his mentor arrived, the older man was so intent on ascertaining whether or not he had succeeded in his goal that, without a moment's hesitation, he drew a dagger, slit the palm of his hand and held it against the rose to compare the two colours. To his delight, the petals were exactly the same hue as his own blood. He was filled with such joy that, according to the apprentice, he then leapt over the bushes, danced a jig across the lawn and jumped into the fountain!"

The doppelganger laughed. "That's one way to celebrate, I guess!" At that point she stopped in middle of the path and turned in a three-hundred-and-sixty degree circle, casting an admiring eye over the flowerbeds, fountains and lush green lawns that made up the Asgardian Royal Gardens. "This place is so incredible. I could stay here forever and never get bored of it."

Thor put his arm around her shoulders as they continued to stroll along the paved walkway. "If you think it is impressive now you should see how it looks at dusk. The lanterns come on shortly after sunset and they make it look very picturesque."

"Really? Can we come here tonight?"

Thor smiled fondly, amused and flattered by her fascination with his home realm. "We will not be able to return here tonight, Jane. We will not have the time."

"Why not?"

"Surely you haven't forgotten about our plans for this evening?" He waited for her to reply, but when his words were met with nothing but silence his brow furrowed and he turned his head to glance down at her. She was looking up at him with a baffled expression – she obviously had no idea what he was talking about.

"Jane?"

Realising that she had made an error, the doppelganger attempted to stall for time: "Oh wait, weren't we going to the…uh, the…"

"To the Astronomical Tower, to observe the constellations," Thor reminded her as he stopped in the middle of the path, frowning in suspicion.

"Oh yes, the Astronomical Tower, of course! How could I possibly have forgotten that?!" The doppelganger gave an embarrassed smile, trying to make light of the situation.

Thor, on the other hand, didn't find it amusing at all. In fact, he found it deeply worrying; in the days leading up to their departure from Earth, all Jane had been able to talk about was how much she was looking forward to visiting the tower. It would be "the highlight of the trip", she had said. This little incident only confirmed Thor's growing fear that there was something wrong with Jane. A few days ago, her lack of anger regarding how he had stayed out all night had come as a surprise to him, but he was feeling so terrible that he decided against questioning it – having been offered the opportunity to retreat into bed and sleep off his hangover, there was no way he was going to refuse that offer, no matter how strange it may have seemed. However, now that he had recuperated and he could safely ascend a staircase without wanting to keel over at the top, he realised that what had happened in their bedchambers wasn't an isolated occurrence – Jane had _changed_. She had always been a cheerful person – indeed, her ability to see the lighter side of life was one of the things that he found most attractive about her – but now she was cheerful _all the time_ and nothing had the effect of darkening her mood. Even when an Asgardian nobleman made a snide remark about her the other day, she had merely smiled politely and walked past him. Thor had admonished the aristocrat for his rudeness, but he was surprised that Jane had not done so first. The Jane he knew would not allow anyone to insult her, not even his father.

And then there was the unexplained forgetfulness – she was often unable to recall conversations that they had had while they were still on Earth (for example, whether they should continue living with Eric and Darcy or whether they should find a place of their own, and so on). But the fact that she had now suddenly forgotten about their plans to visit the tower was by far the most damning piece of evidence. That would never have escaped Jane's memory; not if she was in her right mind, that is. It was now indisputable that there was something wrong with her and Thor was determined to find out what.

Having reasoned that it was best not to agitate her, Thor decided to broach the topic as calmly as he could. Removing his arm from her shoulders, he gently took her wrists into his hands, partly as an affectionate gesture, partly to indicate that he wanted her full attention. "Jane, what is the matter?" He asked softly.

The doppelganger's smile faltered. "Nothing's the matter," she replied evasively.

"No, something _is_ troubling you, I can tell. I cannot believe that you would simply forget about our visit to the Astronomical Tower, not after you told me how exhilarating it would be for you to study the Asgardian night-sky, to record all the stars that are not visible from Midgard..."

"It just slipped my mind, that's all! I've got a lot to think about at the moment and…"

"But that is not the only thing you have forgotten about! There have been so many others, so many important discussions which you cannot seem to recall…And what of this sudden change in character? You no longer quarrel with anyone!"

The doppelganger raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying I _should_ quarrel with people?"

"No, no, of course not! Well, not unless they are being unreasonable, but that's hardly the point!" He sighed. "Come, sit down." Leading her over to one of the arbours that dotted the garden path, Thor sat down and beckoned her to join him. The doppelganger hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside him. Now that they were both seated, Thor decided to get to the crux of the matter: "What I am trying to get across is that you are no longer yourself. Something has changed and I want to know why that is. I am not displeased or angry, I am only concerned. So please, tell me."

The doppelganger fidgeted uneasily. What was she supposed to say? "I...I, um..." In her nervousness, she absent-mindedly started to pick at the rose she was holding in her hands, running her fingers over the top of the flower, tugging at the petals. "I don't know," she replied weakly.

"You do not know why you are acting differently?"

"No."

"Do you _feel_ different at all?"

The doppelganger remained silent.

"Jane?" Thor pressed her.

"Yes," the doppelganger answered somewhat uncertainly, hoping that if she said this, it might discourage Thor from asking her further questions. She was now so uncomfortable that she was willing to say practically anything to make the interrogation stop. Anything except the truth, that is.

Thor reflected on this new piece of information. Perhaps Jane was afflicted with some sort of illness. Or perhaps something else was to blame; maybe some sort of enchantment had been placed upon her? If either of those things were the cause for Jane's odd behaviour, he was confident that the healers would be able to detect it. There was no way he was going to waste time by sending Jane to one of those "doctors" on Midgard. The healers were far more knowledgeable about this sort of thing. Indeed, if it turned out that magic was responsible for all this, he highly doubted that a doctor would even notice that anything was out of the ordinary!

Jane needed to be examined by a healer – it was the only way. He couldn't care less if his father found out and accused him of wasting the healers' time. As far as Thor was concerned, Jane's wellbeing would always be his first priority.

"I want you to pay a visit to the healers this afternoon," he told her.

The doppelganger stiffened. "Why?"

"Because there is clearly something wrong with you! You may not know what it is, but I am confident that the healers will be able to tell us. Now, do not look so distressed…" he added soothingly, "…they are not going to dissect you! They will simply give you an examination, as they did when the Ether was trapped inside you."

"But I'm sure it's nothing serious! I think I'm just going through a phase, I'm sure it'll pass soon..."

"Jane, please, do this for my peace of mind. Maybe you are right, maybe this is not serious, but I still want to hear the healers' verdict. Now, as you know, my presence is required at a warriors' counsel this afternoon, meaning I will be unable to accompany you. So I want you to promise me that in my absence you will go to see the healers, yes?"

The doppelganger nodded reluctantly. Thor had left her with little choice but to agree. "Yes, I promise."

"Thank you. I know it must seem like I am being over-cautious, but I only have your best interests at heart..."

"I know, I know."

Noticing that the doppelganger seemed a little withdrawn, Thor added: "If you do not wish to go on your own I am sure one of my friends would be happy to escort you. Sif, perhaps, or Volstagg?"

"_No_!" The doppelganger exclaimed before she could stop herself. "I mean, um, no thanks. Although I think it's highly unlikely, if it does turn out that there's something wrong with me, I'd be so embarrassed if one of your friends was there. I'd rather go alone."

"Very well." Deciding to change the topic in order to brighten Jane's mood, he stood up and held out his hand to her: "Come along, we still have a short while before the counsel begins. And we have yet to complete our tour of the gardens."

"Okay." Taking hold of his hand, the doppelganger allowed Thor to pull her to her feet and as he led them away down the path, she contemplated her next move. Obviously she was not going to go to the healers – the fact that Thor would not be around that afternoon was indeed a blessing. But what should she do afterwards? He would want to know what the healers' diagnosis was. Would it be wiser to tell him that they had said there was nothing wrong with her, or would it be more advisable to say that they believed she was suffering from a minor illness? What if he was not convinced by either of those claims? What if he demanded that she have a re-examination and he accompanied her there, only for the healers to inform him that she had never visited in the first place?

As she ran through all these possible scenarios in her mind, the doppelganger grew tense and she clenched her hand tightly, causing the stem of the rose to snap. Having completely forgotten about the flower, the doppelganger glanced down in surprise. The rose was hanging limply in her hand, the top of it drooping to the side. It reminded the doppelganger of a prisoner's body lying by the executioner's block; a body that still had the head partially attached because the axe had fallen at a funny angle.

She couldn't allow Thor to see how she had mutilated the rose – he needed to believe that everything was fine, that there was nothing to be suspicious about. The fact that she had nearly snapped the head off the flower would clearly indicate how uneasy she was feeling! She had to dispose of it before he noticed. Waiting until the former prince was looking in the opposite direction, she surreptitiously tossed the mangled rose behind a bush and breathed a silent sigh of relief. When he realised it was missing, she would simply pretend that it had slipped from her grasp. She was sure he'd be more than happy to pick her another one.


End file.
